The Ballads of Robin Hood
by yorozuyagaren
Summary: A collection of episodes concerning our favourite outlaw, based for the most part on the actual ballads, with some digression.
1. The Knight Not on Horseback

Don't think anyone's tried this yet. This is taken almost directly from a poem I found entitled "Here Beginneth a Little Geste of Robin Hood". The story itself will have several chapters, mostly separate episodes. The first one will be in two parts.

First Fit: The Man Not on Horseback

The early afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern of light on the head and chest of a young man dressed in green leaning against a tree at the edge of a small encampment. He was humming a tune, the very picture of happy laziness, a nondescript sort of fellow with mud-brown hair in need of a trim and intelligent grey eyes. An unstrung bow lay at his feet.

He had come to the end of his song and was about to begin another one when a slightly older man, nearly seven feet tall and built like an ox, came out from behind a hut and tapped the hummer on the shoulder.

"Robin, shouldn't we be preparing something for midday?" the big man asked. "It's well after noon and Much's stomach's loud enough to hear from Nottingham."

Robin looked up, squinting a bit in the glare from the sun. "I've no desire to eat until we've a guest to eat with us," he said firmly.

The bigger man gave Robin an odd look. Robin grinned and stretched, cracking his back. "Here, John," he said. "Take Will and Much and go find us a guest if you're so hungry."

John shook his head disparagingly and headed to the other side of the camp to look for Will and Much.

Will, a skinny lad of eighteen with flaming red hair, was giving a lesson in swordsmanship to fifteen-year-old Much. It wasn't going well.

"No, no! Hold it higher!" Will shouted. "You wanna get your head chopped off?"

"No…" Much began, struggling to hold the heavy weapon off the ground. It slipped out of his sweaty hands and fell in the dirt. Will rolled his eyes and was about to start yelling when John clapped a massive hand on his shoulder.

"Will, Much," he said. "We've orders to find Robin a guest for midday meal."

Much promptly forgot his present difficulties. "That mean food?" he asked eagerly.

"Aye, Much. That means food," Will told him. Much ran into one of the huts for his bow and quiver.

John strode over to the discarded sword and picked it up. "Not doing well, is he?" Will shook his head "no".

"Ah well," John continued. "His archery's as good as Robin's so I doubt we've much to worry about. For now, though, it's off to the road to find a guest for midday meal."

--

John grabbed a branch and pulled it back, revealing the road. A lone knight plodded along towards the three outlaws, leading his horse. He was perhaps of middle age, though his demeanor made him seem an old man.

"There's our guest," whispered Will. Much grinned, then followed John and Will as they jumped out of the bush they'd been hiding in directly in front of the knight.

"Good even to you, Sir Knight," John said politely. Firmly, but politely.

The knight looked up, his eyes resting on John for a moment, then glanced over at Will and Much.

"An interesting company is this," he remarked.

"Welcome to the Greenwood, sir," John said. "Our master has been waiting some three hours for a guest before he eats."

"And who is your master?" the knight asked.

John smiled. "None other than Robin Hood."

The knight seemed unperturbed. "I've heard much good of him, despite his best efforts," he said. "I'd planned to dine today at Blythe or Duncaster, but I believe I shall go with you three."

--

Back at the encampment, Robin sat before a fire, turning several plucked pheasants on a spit. A haunch of venison sat nearby, half out of its wrappings, and a flat rock near the fire bore five sizzling cakes. Robin merely shook his head as the voices of his companions reached him, yelling about something or other.

"Hallo Robin!" came Will's voice. "Have ye got midday ready? We found a guest!"

The cry was followed by Much and Will, who came barrelling out of the underbrush, happy as pigs in mud. They were followed by the more sedate John, who was conversing quietly with the knight. Robin removed the pheasants from the fire, placing them carefully on a bed of fresh leaves to cool, then stood and bowed, taking off his hood.

"Welcome, Sir Knight, to our humble abode," he proclaimed. "Much, go get the trenchers and some water for washing."

Much dashed into one of the huts for trenchers, dumped them at Robin's feet, then ran off for a bucket.

The knight watched with interest. "A strange thing that outlaws in Sherwood wash before they eat, when many noble knights in their castles do not."

Much came running back with a bucket of water, breathing heavily.

"We're strange folk here," said Robin. "Aren't we, lads?" Will, John, and Much laughed, Much wheezing slightly from his run to and from the spring.

"I doubt these three introduced themselves," Robin said, gesturing toward the three giggling outlaws. "The big ugly one's John Little, or Little John." John waved. "Carrot-head is my elder half-sister's son, Will Scarlet." Will scowled. "And the little one is the newest member of our band, Much the Miller's Son."

"I am _not_ little!" Much protested. Will whooped with laughter and nearly fell over.

"Aye, lad," he said. "You're as big as John!"

"It's not fair," Much pouted. "Just 'cause I'm the smallest, everyone picks on me."

"No one's picking on you, Much," Robin intervened. "Right, Will?" Will hastily turned a chuckle into a cough, which caused John to give him a pat on the back that nearly knocked the smaller man to the ground. Robin turned to the knight. "We do have a board around here somewhere. Come." Robin then led the entire party over to where a board had been laid across two stumps, with a rough bench on either side.

"John," Robin said with a grin. "The chair of honour, if you don't mind." John bowed mockingly and retrieved a small carved wooden throne from one of the huts, setting it gently at the head of the table. Much placed each of the five trenchers on the board, two on each side and one in front of the chair of honour.

"If this were a fine dining hall in some lord's court, there would be servants to bring the meat to the table, and likewise water for washing," said Robin. "However, this is no more than an outlaws' camp, and therefore we serve ourselves." Back to the fire it was, with Robin carrying the spit with the pheasants, John the haunch of venison, Will the cakes, and Much the water bucket.

When the food had been set on the board, Robin turned to Much. "Pass round the bucket, lad," he said. "Guests first."

Much obligingly held the bucket for the knight, who washed his hands diligently and dried them on his tunic. Much then passed the bucket to John, who washed and passed it across the board to Will, who washed and passed it to Robin, who washed and set it on the ground beside him.

"May the Father and Holy Ghost bless this meal," Robin said solemnly with his hands clasped. "And may Our Dear Lady bless and protect us all." The knight seemed pleased by this, and accepted the cake that Much passed him.

The five men (or four men and one boy) ate with gusto for some time, until four of the six pheasants were down to bones, and the venison was half carved away.

"Eat up, Sir Knight," Robin said. "Don't stint yourself, by any means."

"Thank you, sir," the knight said. "I haven't had such a dinner in three weeks. If I can ever repay you, have no doubt that I will."

Robin held up his hand. "Food, I can take it or leave it," he said. "But pay before you go. It was never the manner for a poor yeoman to pay for a knight."

"I have nothing," the knight said sadly. "No more than ten shillings to my name."

"Little John, go look," Robin said. Then to the knight— "If you tell the truth, we shall not take it."

John went to the knight's saddle bags, and indeed, there was but ten shillings.

"There is a story behind this, is there not?" Robin asked.

"Indeed there is," the knight replied. "A sad and tragic one."


	2. The Knight's Tale

The Ballads of Robin Hood

Second Fit: The Knight's Tale

The knight looked around sadly at the assembled company. Then he began.

"A hundred years my ancestors have been knights," he said. "But I now disgrace their name, and have nothing but my wife and children."

"How did this come about?" Robin asked.

"By my great folly and small kindnesses," The knight replied ruefully. "I had a son, who should have been my heir. He was a splendid jouster. When he was twenty years of age, he killed a knight of Lancaster on the jousting field. I was forced to sell all I had to pay amends, and when that wasn't enough, I mortaged my lands to the rich abbot at Saint Mary's Abbey."

"How much do you owe?" Robin asked.

"Four hundred pounds in total," the knight said, rubbing his temples. "And the abbot wants his loan."

Robin thought for a moment. "If you lose your land, what happens?"

"I suppose I'll go as a pilgrim to the Holy Land, and hopefully die on the journey." He stood up and began to leave. "Farewell, friend. And have a good day. It's too fine to be sad."

"What of your friends?" Robin asked.

"Not one of them knows me now, though they were friendly enough when I had lands and goods."

A hiccup brought everyone's attention away from the knight. It had come from Much, who was hastily wiping away what looked suspiciously like tears.

"Sun's in my eyes," he muttered, by way of an excuse. Will snorted.

"Do you have any friend that would be your sponsor?" Robin asked, bluntly ignoring the two boys.

The knight shook his head. "None but God."

"That's not funny," Robin said. "Who would God borrow it from—Peter, Paul, or John? Find me a better sponsor."

"I have no other, save Our Dear Lady."

Robin smiled. "A better sponsor couldn't be found," he said. "Come, Little John. Bring four hundred pounds, well-measured. Will, you help him carry it."

So John went into the treasure room, where the group kept the money they got from robbing rich travellers, and counted out four hundred pounds.

"Is it well-measured?" asked Much.

"What grieves you?" John asked in mock indignation. "It's for that gentle knight. I wouldn't shortchange a man in poverty." Having brought the money before the board, he said, "Robin, his clothes are very thin. You must give him some better ones. We've that good scarlet cloth, and Lincoln green besides, that we took from those rich merchants the other day."

"Of course, of course," said Robin. "Measure him three yards of each colour, and be sure you measure true."

Little John, having no other measure, took up his long bow, and counted each length of it a yard.

"What sort of cloth measurer do you think you are?" said Much. "Your bow is taller than I am."

Will stood by laughing. "By God almighty," he said between gasps. "John may give him good measure, for it costs him but lightly." Robin smiled at his nephew's pronouncement.

"Robin, you must give the knight a horse to carry home his goods," John pointed out.

"Give him the grey packhorse, and a new saddle," said Robin. "What would you give him, men?"

"A stout pair of boots," said Will.

"A war horse!" Much piped up.

Will laughed as John pointed out to Much that the band didn't have a war horse to give.

"And what shall you give him, John?" Robin asked.

"Sir, the gilded spurs we took from His Honour, the Sheriff of Nottingham. I believe he'll use them well, and none of us can ride."

The knight looked as if he might cry. "When shall my day be?" he asked.

"This day, twelve months from now," Robin said without hesitation. "Here, under this greenwood tree.

"It would be a shame for a knight to ride alone, without squire, yeoman or page. Therefore, I shall lend you Little John to act as your squire."


End file.
